A Single Man Tear
by staceycj
Summary: Tag to 10X05 Dean has questions for Sam.


Sam slammed the book, rubbed his eyes and forced his hands through his long hair. "My eyes are jello man. I'm going to get some sleep." He said with a sigh. Dean looked up and nodded.

"Go ahead dude, I'm going to stay up just a little bit longer, I know I've seen that incantation before."

"Okay." Sam said and stretched. "Don't stay up too late, we've got a lot of driving ahead of us tomorrow."

"Yeah, yeah, mom, whatever." Sam shook his head and headed straight for his bedroom. He shut the door behind him, began unbuttoning his shirt when he saw Dean's laptop on his bed with a pad of paper covering the screen. His thick black scrawl read, "Is this really how you feel?"

Sam felt the blood run from his face. Ever since that incident with the girls and the play, Dean had been reading every single copy of the Supernatural books and manuscripts he could get ahold of. God only knew what was in those books, God only knew what he had mumbled under his breath all of those years ago that he would now have to defend himself against.

Truth be told, the books sort of scared him a little. They not only told their story but they also got inside of their heads and shared their deepest and darkest feelings and desires. He avoided the books because he never really wanted to know what Dean though or felt that first year out of hell, or what was going through his head when Dean sold his soul so Sam could live. He also didn't want to reread some of the feelings and thoughts he had had while he was addicted to demon blood. God knows he was embarrassed enough of those times without a detailed reminder.

The pad of paper beckoned him. He sighed, he slumped his shoulders, he threw his button down on the chair beside the bed, and he pulled the note pad off of the computer and stared at it. Why did Dean want to know so desperately? They were finally in a good place, a solid place, a place they hadn't been in so long that Sam had almost forgotten what it felt like to be in sync with the man who had raised him and loved him unconditionally for so long. They weren't just brothers, they were friends, and Sam had missed that so much, and here he was, staring at a sheet of paper, and his response could destroy everything that saving Dean from remaining a demon had earned.

He finally looked past the note and looked at the computer screen and before him was a video of the play paused at a specific time. "What in the hell?" Sam muttered. Sam's finger hesitated over the mouse, hesitated to hit play and hear or relive any part of his life, he had been thankful to been hole up with the drama teacher and the actress killing the fugyly of the week, he hadn't been sure he could watch the play.

But because he could never deny his brother, even when they were in the middle of heated love hate battle, he hit play. Marie stood there looking slightly nervous, wearing clothes that, Sam had to admit, were something he would have worn, but the hair, my good grief, the hair, he so did not have hair like that. He pushed his long chestnut locks behind his ears as he thought _my hair is so not that long_.

The piano began to play and Marie started to sing, loud and clear,

"A single man tear slips down his face

He shows emotion without trace

He hides behind a mask so strong

Worried that he could be wrong

Then Sam's eyes caught the background, it was Dean, or the girl who was portraying Dean, essentially coming to blows with a crossroad's demon. Sam began to choke back tears. He wondered if this was what it looked like when Dean sold his soul so Sam could live. Sam almost hit pause, almost threw the laptop lid down so the visual would stop, so the song would stop, so he wouldn't have to see the single worst moment of his brother's life unfold in front of him. But just as he went to close the lid the next verse caught his attention

I wish he could see the way I see him

The perfect brother, a man without sin

Because underneath the manly sheen

It is my brother, a boy named Dean

A single man tear

A single man tear

A single man tear

That's all we fear

That single man tear flowed quite freely down his face, followed by another and another. That was exactly how he felt about his brother, always had felt about his brother. He had never been able to put it into words, never been able to express how he saw him, he'd tried once, told Dean that he'd been looking up to him since he was 4, but Sam knew Dean didn't believe that. Sam had done so many things that had contradicted this, always so busy fighting his family, his destiny, his life, but this last year or so he finally realize how it felt and seemed to Dean. To Dean, he was fighting Dean, and fighting to get rid of him, or to be rid of him, or to escape him, because he had never taken a moment to explain to his brother what he was really trying to escape….himself and his weakness and his dependence.

Sam listened and listened to that song, and it wasn't until the fourth time through the song did he actually pay attention to the young lady singing for Dean.

A single man tear is all I'll spare

I bury feelings don't show I care

Even though I'm haunted

Must be the man daddy wanted

I wish I could be as strong Sam

Blaze my own trail, be my own man

But underneath this broken mask

It is my father without his wrath.

A single man tear

A single man tear

A single man tear

That's all we fear

And the tears flowed freely down his long face again. Did Dean really think that about himself?

He quickly gathered the notebook, found a pen and scribbled. "Yes. I've always felt that way about you Dean. I've just never been good at putting things like that into words. I know I know…you think I'm the one who can do chick flick moments. Truth is, they are hard for me too. But yes Dean. That's how I feel." He was about to pick up the computer and head towards his brother's room and deposit the computer and the note on his brother's bed when something hit him and he grabbed the pen again. "Is that how you see yourself…really?"

Sam returned the computer to his brother's room, the room that was finally starting to take on more Dean qualities again after the whole demonization. Those pictures that Sam had found, they were framed and hung on the walls, one or two of Bobby's hats were on the wall above the desk, and Bobby and John's hunting journals were on the desk in places of honor, next to the picture of him and Dean together, the picture that Bobby had taken of the two of them, just hanging out on the back of the Impala drinking a beer. Sam suddenly felt a homesickness for the South Dakota junk yard, and the man who owned it. Sam chalked it up to his emotions still running high from the last couple of weeks, and silently closed his brother's door.

A single man tear is truly all he fears.


End file.
